Chapter 1
Tafari “Man” Seasons
Never A Bad Time For Blue Crabs . . .
“Boy, dem crabs was bitin’ taday. I tol’ you dey know when Big Rell in dat boat!” My father, Terrell Seasons, felt himself about the haul for today.
He wasn’t lying, so there was nothing that I had to say against his claim. “Yeah, Daddy. We did good. Half des bushels already sold. Troy in der ’bout to take da head off half dem shrimp.”
I loved fishing, shrimping, and crabbing with my daddy.
Ever since I was a little boy, this was how our family made our money for the most part.
My daddy had a nine to five, but this was the hustle that brought in the real money.
It was one of my favorite pastimes to sit with my parents by the side of the road in Charleston or Mount Pleasant to sell the seafood that we caught that morning.
My mama, Shayla, and grandmama, Lula Mae, handled the customers while my daddy, uncle Torrance, cousins Jordan, Troy, and I filled the orders.
“Good! I wasn’t ’bout to fuck wit’ dem shrimp taday. That boy know he can take da head off a shrimp fasta den anyone I know,” my daddy said with a titter.
I laughed as I passed him to walk into the back door of my business.
What my father and uncle started, I took to another level when I started Man Man’s Seafood Market & Ish Restaurant.
As I got older, I wanted something that stamped a legacy for my family.
I moved us from the side of the road to a storefront seafood market in North Charleston, South Carolina.
Next door to the market was & Ish Restaurant.
When I came up with the name of my business, my parents didn’t understand the & Ish part of it.
When they asked why I chose that name for the restaurant, the only explanation that I had was that I planned to sell seafood and shit.
When you heard about Man Man’s & Ish Restaurant, that was the answer to the question of what was served. Seafood and shit.
“Man Man! Come get dis girl from in front my counta before she get karate chopped in ha melon ass head. This lil heifer wasn’t ’round dis much when y’all was tagetha.” My mama fussed after she walked to the back.
I threw my head back with a huff. “Dis fuckin’ girl!” When I finally locked eyes with my mama, I knew she really planned to karate chop that damn girl. “I comin’, Mama. Did she order sum—”
“Boy, you know her silly ass made a order. Her ass out der ’bout to pass out from holin’ her breath ’cause of dat seafood allergy she got. If she pass out, I ain’t callin’ dem boys. Her ass ga die right on da flo’.” My mama was done with my ex Charlotte.
My Daddy and Troy laughed at my expense.
They knew that I didn’t want to deal with this damn girl.
Charlotte and I were in a relationship for six years, but we broke up over four damn years ago.
Every so often, this girl tried to spend the block.
It was always after her feelings were hurt by some random fuck nigga.
I guess it made her think about the outstanding man that she had in me and wanted to try to rekindle.
The first two years after our breakup, I entertained her.
At that time, she was pussy that I was familiar with.
I thought it was cool until it wasn’t. She started to get clingy and thought that our fucking each other meant more than what it did.
I cut her off cold turkey, because one thing that I didn’t do and wouldn’t do was extra, unnecessary drama. Charlotte was unnecessary drama.
When I got to the front of the market, I stopped to glare at her. All I could do was shake my head. “Charlotte, what’s goin’ on witcha?”
She stood there looking just like she was . . . stupid. Her ass had a severe seafood allergy to the point that even smelling the shit could cause a reaction. When we were together, you couldn’t pay her to step foot in my market and restaurant. Now, I couldn’t keep her out of it.
She gave me a closed-lip smile. “Hey, Tafari. You look good today.”
“You came in ya to tell me I look good? Dats what you chose to risk ya life fa?” My brows moved inward to kiss each other.
She sucked her teeth, stuck her hip out, then put her hand on it. “Why do you gotta be like that? I made an order, and I’m here to pick it up.”
“Charlotte, what da hell you gettin’ out hea dat ain’t ga land you in da hospital? Stop wastin’ food and my time,” I told her. My stare at her was blank.
I walked over to the counter where my mother had her order bagged up. I said a quick prayer that my mother wouldn’t say anything. The speed of my mother’s mouth was faster than the speed my prayer needed to reach the ears of God.
“Here dat girl food,” my mama said before she looked around me. “Charlotte, I’on care how many shrimp, crab, or fish you buy from outcha. You neva ga be a Seasons. Find a nice man dat own a dentistry. Dat would be a come up fa you.”
My head dropped when a few of the people that stood in earshot laughed. They didn’t laugh inconspicuously either. They didn’t give a damn if Charlotte heard them.
I was convinced that Shayla Seasons had no feelings for anyone outside of the people she loved and cared about. Unfortunately for Charlotte, she was not one of those people. My mama said what she wanted, when she wanted, to whoever she wanted to say it to.
Charlotte’s dental situation left much to be desired, but outside of that, she was a gorgeous woman. When I lifted my head to look at her, the embarrassment sat on her face. I took the bag from my mama, then walked it over to the other counter, and gave it to Charlotte. “Here ya order.”
She took the bag from the counter. “Um, do you have a moment to talk outside? I wanted to ask you something.”
“Go ’head and talk ta dat lopsided head girl out da door. Don’t nobody wanna hear her beg.” My mama pointed at the door. “Come on, Cecily. You see des young girl outcha beggin’ for des boys attention. I wish I might!”
Man, let me take dis girl outcha before she cry behind my mama mout’. “Yeah, Charlotte, I got a second. Come on.”
I moved from behind the counter with haste to get her out of the market.
Cecily and my mama talked about Charlotte like she wasn’t standing right near them.
When I got outside, I walked toward the parking lot to get some distance from the building.
I wasn’t sure what she wanted to talk about.
I stared at her once we faced each other.
She was the one that wanted to talk, but now she stood here like she had nothing to say.
When I asked her if she planned to talk, she double blinked like she’d just arrived at the thought of the conversation. “Oh, yes. Um, I wanted to know if you were free on Friday. If you are, I wanted to take you on a date.”
This is a different approach for her. When I woke up this morning, I did not foresee this shit. Charlotte’s normal approach was to throw her pussy, mouth, or ass at me. This approach was subtle for her.
“Thank you fa da invitation. I am busy on Friday.” My finger went up to stop her next question. “Before you ask, it don’t matter what da day is. I’m not interested in going on a date wit’ you. Charlotte, let dis shit go. You did what you did and got what you got,” I told her.
See, there was a time that I wanted to marry Charlotte.
I really thought she was the one, but it was clear that her feelings were not the same.
I found that out when she told me that she wanted to take a break to make sure I was where she wanted to be.
Yeah, no! I was a grown ass man, and I didn’t take breaks.
I wanted to be with someone who knew that they wanted to be with me.
Plus, it wasn’t like we had just begun our relationship. We were six fucking years in.
Frustration rose to her face. “I don’t understand the problem, Man Man! It’s been over four years since we broke up. I’ve grown! Why can’t you see that?”
Man Man! Yeah, she’s in her feelings. Man Man was a nickname that was given to me when I was three-years-old by my grandmama.
I was told that on Easter Sunday I took a liking to my suit that matched my daddy’s.
Apparently, I refused to take it off. My grandmama said that I walked around like a little man.
Soon after she started to say that I was her little man man.
The name stuck, and after a while, everyone referred to me by it.
Charlotte never called me Man Man unless she was in her feelings.
There was no reason that she had to be in them right now.
At the end of the day, she chose to see what was out there and found out just how fucked up these niggas were.
When she came crawling back to me after she had a baby with a fuck nigga, I was good on her.
I had nothing against women with children, but that was not what I wanted for me.
I wanted my child to be with the woman I would be with forever.
I wanted it to be her first child as well.
“Look, congratulations on ya growth. Dats a big thing and I do see em. Da growth wasn’t fa me doe. It was fa you. Charlotte, I don’t backtrack and you know dat shit. I heard Russ’s daddy tryin’ to do right. Go let da man be great,” I encouraged.
Russ was her second son that she had three years ago.
She had way too much going. Russell was her second son’s father, and he was a good dude.
Charlotte didn’t want to acknowledge that because from what she told me in the past, he was a lame to her.
By lame she meant that he had no street in him.
As much as she grew, she hadn’t grown that much.
Charlotte just stared at me for a moment before her face tightened. Here comes that little flip. “You know what, Tafari? Maybe I will be with Russell. At least I don’t have to worry about him coming home smelling like fucking seafood. He’s a man with an executive position.”